


Spring Days

by RobinMistySaddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, No happy endings, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 03:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19220968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinMistySaddle/pseuds/RobinMistySaddle
Summary: Mary tries to deal with John's schizophrenia





	Spring Days

He was sitting on the bench.  That’s where she found him.  Even though she was behind him she looped around so he saw her coming.  He smiled briefly, his lips tight together.  
  
She sat.  Close, but not too close.    
  
His hands were clasped in his lap.  She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she didn’t.  
  
_It’s cold for a spring day._  
  
He looked up and around.    
  
_Yep._  
  
_Wouldn’t it be nicer inside?_  
  
She waited patiently.  She wasn’t going to press him.  If he didn’t want to, she accepted that.  
  
_Maybe in a bit._  
  
The cool breeze stirred the leaves and the grass.  She shivered.  
  
_I’m going in, then._  
  
_I’ll be in soon._  
  
She got up and smiled at him, but he wasn’t paying attention to her, just staring at the fields in the distance.  
  


* * *

  
Rain.  Have to stay inside.  
  
He was playing snooker.    
  
_Can I join?_  
  
_No._  
  
She stood by the table watching him.  He studied the balls and their positions.  His brow furrowed before each shot.  
  
_He hasn’t come._  
  
She looked down.  An ugly pattern on the carpet.  
  
_He never does._  
  
He threw the cue down and stormed out of the room.  
  


* * *

  
Warmer today.  The sun was out.  He was sitting on the bench again.  She didn’t sit down.  Not yet.  
  
_Would you like to take a walk?_  
  
_No._  
  
She sat down.  She wasn’t going to push him.  It would have been nice.  
  
She looked down at his hands in his lap.  She was going to hold his hand.  
  
A corner of the newspaper stuck out from under his leg.  That’s why he didn’t want to get up.  
  
She looked at him. Stern, almost angry.  
  
_What is it this time?_  
  
_No._  
  
_If you don’t let me see..._  
  
He sighed.  Lifting up enough so she could grab the paper before sitting back down.  Arms crossed across his chest.  Petulant.  
  
Paper unfolded to read the front page.  
  
**Holmes Does It Again**  
  
She closed her eyes.  
  
_How did you get this?_  
  
Sulking, not answering.  
  
_You know what I have to do._  
  
_Go._  
  
She stood up, paper folded under her arm.    
  
_I’m sorry._  
  
He didn’t look at her.  Still mad.  She hated that.  She hated when he was mad at her.  
  
In the car she couldn’t stop bawling.  
  


* * *

  
Exhausted by it all.  She couldn’t.  Not today.  She called to let them know she wouldn’t be coming.  
  


* * *

  
She was there, but she just looked at him from the window.    
  
He sat on the bench again.  That’s where they say he spends a lot of his days when he can go out.  Sits.  Stares.  
  
She couldn’t go out and see him.  
  


* * *

  
He didn’t ask.  Not about her.  
  
Just him.  
  
That’s what they told her.  
  
Wanted to know why he didn’t come see him.  Or telephone him.  Any sort of message.  
  
Did he even notice if she didn’t see him?  She doubted it.  
  


* * *

  
“Mrs. Watson?”  
  
Mary looked up.  Dr. Singh stood in the doorway.  She got up and followed him into the office.  
  
Dr. Singh sat behind a desk.  “You know Ms. Longstreet?”  She sat in a chair facing the doctor’s desk.  Mary sat down next to her.  
  
Mary nodded.  “She helped me through the intake.”  
  
“Well,” he started, “thank you for coming in today.  I thought it best we give you an update on John’s status.”  
  
Mary nodded.  She knew what was about to happen.  She closed her eyes and the tears started to flow.  She couldn’t stop them.  Her body shook quietly as she tried to stifle the tears.  She felt an arm across her back, consoling her.  
  
When she stopped crying she looked up.  
  
“Are you able to continue?” he asked gently.  
  
Mary nodded.  
  
Dr. Singh opened a thick file and began to flip through pages.  “John often talks about your work in MI6.” He looked up at her.  
  
Mary nodded and shrugged.  “I didn’t really want this to come up.  I used to work for MI6.  I resigned and moved to Bury once all of this started.  It’s in the forms that I’m at West Suffolk Hospital now.”  
  
Dr. Singh nodded and quickly wrote on the page.  
  
She sighed.  “He has some idea that when I was with MI6 what I did was some sort of fancy top secret work, like I was James Bond.  Something sexy like that.”  
  
Dr. Singh chuckled. “That’s what he says.  He often refers to your work as ‘sexy’.”  
  
“It wasn’t.”  
  
“I want to apologize for John being able to get a hold of the paper,” Ms. Longstreet said after a brief pause.  “It turns out one of the cafeteria workers had left it out.  That situation has been rectified.”  
  
Mary nodded.  
  
“And I realize,” Dr. Singh said, “that he is fixated on Sherlock Holmes.  I hate brining this up yet again.  I know how much it troubles you.  We’re just really struggling here to try and see if we can address this obsession.  Dr. Watson was at St. Bart’s before he came here.  Did he ever see Mr. Holmes there?  Any connection?”  
  
Mary sighed.  “None.”  
  


* * *

  
He liked sitting outside on the bench.  
  
She should have asked Dr. Singh how much they were keeping him medicated.  
  
She took his hand. And held it tight.  There was some resistance, but he let her.  
  
_This is so hard._  
  
She gently squeezed his hand.  He kept looking out across the fields.  
  
She lay her head on his shoulder.    
  
It came, barely more than a whisper. _I’m sorry._  
  
She clutched his arm.  
  
_I love you._  
  
_I love you, too._


End file.
